


russian nothing guitar

by zuzuzuuu



Series: Restoration Notwithstanding Glamor [1]
Category: UNINE (Band)
Genre: AU, But then again I never know, I don't have to ship it to write it, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Short Drabbles, Unrelated to each other, Writing Exercise, canonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:03:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzuzuuu/pseuds/zuzuzuuu
Summary: An exploration of nine randomly chosen relationships among UNINE, using a Random Number Generator (RNG) and random word generator.The title is picked from a randomly generated list of words -R_____N, N_____G, G_____R.1) 69. Hypothesis: The greatest detective of our time, Hu Chunyang, stumped before breakfast. Canonverse2) 35. Deformity: Damaged goods for damaged souls. Mingming meets Jia Yi, in a one-sided sort of way, and it helps, in a two-sided sort of way. AU





	1. Roll the dice

9 [random relationships](https://www.random.org/integers/) in UNINE (integers between 11-99, inclusive)

and their respective [randomly chosen word prompts](https://www.thewordfinder.com/random-word-generator/)

Coming soon. (hopefully)

If you like the idea and want to try your hand at this, feel free to link back / drop a note / mark this as what inspired yours etc


	2. 69. Hypothesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The greatest detective of our time, Hu Chunyang, stumped before breakfast.

Chunyang seems to have a mystery on his hands.

He ponders this, brushing his teeth blearily in the bathroom to the white noise of Wenhan knocking about, stuffing the things he needs into pockets and rummaging for the others he can't find.

“Yangyang,” his beloved older brother calls. “Have you seen my -”

Chunyang gargles and spits, pointing at the bedside table.

“Oh. Thanks,” the last part said with a pop of his head through the doorway. “Xixi isn't up yet?”

 _Why ask me?_ Chunyang thinks, adding this to his ever-increasing mental list of items in The Mystery. But he nods, drying his hands. “I'm going to their room now.”

“Okay,” Wenhan says, collapsing back into bed. “Have fun.”

Chunyang mulls over the last two words all the way to the first floor.

-

He Changxi is soft and hard at the same time. Like a sturdy reed, bending with the wind, whipping back sharply after it. When he's asleep, though, mostly soft.

Or so Chunyang thinks, watching Changxi’s butterfly eyelashes land on his pillow.

“Yangyang?” Zhenning asks sleepily, turning over.

“Morning,” Chunyang greets. Changxi stirs at the sound but doesn't wake. This doesn't bother Chunyang at all, though he tries to analyse what this feeling flitting around in his chest is.

“I'll wash up first,” Zhenning yawns. “The room's yours.” Chunyang nods in reply. Although he has no idea what the second sentence was supposed to imply, nodding was the safest option.

 _Observation:_ Everyone seems to think that he wants to spend time with He Changxi.

 _Alone,_  he adds after, before realising he's still standing there beside Changxi’s bed like a human coat hanger, and sits down. Frowning in his sleep, Changxi noses toward the dip in the bed, arms searching for the intruder. Chunyang quickly spots one of the red panda plushes that has somehow fallen off sometime in the night, and stuffs it into the questing hands.

 _Observation:_ He doesn't seem to think of Changxi the same way that he thinks of Wenhan. Even though they're both like his older brothers, on the same team, and often take special care of him.

He thinks this while mapping out the shape of Changxi’s high cheeks. The frown on Changxi’s face relaxes as he burrows his face into the soft belly of the red panda, and Chunyang can feel his own smile lifting along with it.

“Mm,” Changxi says, curling into the sheets. “Shenshen, five minutes.”

“Zhenning-ge is washing up,” Chunyang tells him. He grabs another one of the red pandas to hug, watching Changxi come to terms with this sentence.

Changxi doesn’t move for a minute, then sits up, eyes squinting. “Yangyang?” He puts the red panda aside without a second thought, even though he was holding it so tightly moments ago.

“...Xixi,” Chunyang says after some deliberation.

Changxi smiles at the nickname. “So early,” he complains, falling forward onto Chunyang’s shoulder. Carefully, Chunyang shifts nearer so that Changxi doesn’t lean too far out and hurt his back. After all, Wenhan is always talking about how important it is to take care of your back when dancing, and Changxi has a lot of dancing to do.

“What are you thinking about,” Changxi asks from his shoulder. It’s muted, the sounds of cutlery being put down in the background, footsteps up and down the stairs outside. But then there’s the two of them in a bubble, a quiet enclosure.

“What to wear later,” Chunyang says.

“Liar,” Changxi laughs quietly, raising his head to look at Chunyang. His forehead has a small patch of red where he was resting it, crease line going across. It’s unfair that Changxi manages to make it attractive, an unexpected side to his normally pristine and put-together look. “You wear whatever I pick out.”

 _Observation:_ It’s hard to think properly around Changxi.

Chunyang hesitantly raises a hand. Changxi waits, arms now meekly in his lap. “How would you know what I’m thinking?” he asks. Then reaches for the crease, fingers smoothing it out.

 _Hypothesis:_ Changxi has secretly done something to him, and everyone besides him knows.

But what?

“I just do,” Changxi says, unfazed. He tilts his head, trusting Chunyang enough that he doesn’t even question what he’s doing, simply waiting for him to finish.

Chunyang suddenly, irrationally, doesn’t want to stop.

Pausing for only a moment, he changes his movement, hand covering Changxi’s eyes. Eyelashes tickle Chunyang’s palm as Changxi blinks in confusion. “Yangyang?”

 _There is only one truth._ He presses a kiss to the top of Changxi’s hairline, feather light, and brushes away imaginary dust using his free hand.

“Panda fur,” he says when he lets go.

“Oh,” Changxi says, quickly dusting himself off. “Well come on, I don’t want to be last!”

 _We probably already are,_ Chunyang thinks, but lets himself be pulled along out the door and down the stairs.

-

“I knew only Yangyang could wake the sleeping beauty,” Wenhan says around the food stuffed in his mouth.

“You _what_ now,” Changxi takes up, rolling his sleeves.

“Here,” Chunyang shoves breakfast in Changxi’s face, in time for him to soften and take the bowl from him in thanks.

“I’ll settle with you later,” Changxi glares at Wenhan, who only leaves a taunting _you can try_ before running off.

“Breakfast,” Chunyang reminds. How hard it is to be the youngest and most mature member of the group.

“Yeah,” Changxi says, opening Chunyang’s own bowl for him too. “Breakfast. Let’s eat!”

 _Let’s._ Chunyang savours the word. Perhaps the hypothesis needs refining.

 


	3. 35. Deformity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damaged goods for damaged souls. Mingming meets Jia Yi, in a one-sided sort of way, and it helps, in a two-sided sort of way. AU

“This one’s damaged,” is the first thing that Mingming hears when he opens his eyes. “What do I keep you around for? Can't even do a simple job right.” He feels his ears twitch at the top of his head, swivelling to the source of the sound.

“Sorry,” the boy in front of him mutters, the red cap clutched tightly in his hands twisted and pulled out of shape. His face is also all out of shape, scrunched up as it is in contrition. Mingming shuts his eyes again quickly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He peeks through a tiny sliver of a gap only when he dares, relying more on his ears instead.

The first voice seems to take on resigned tone, though it's still annoyed. “Just do something about it.” It belongs to a man, shoving a bent cigarette into his mouth as he carelessly messes up his hair. The boy quickly fumbles out a lighter and lifts the flame up, shielding it from the slight air conditioning that Mingming can feel on his face. He earns a grunt for his efforts, the man leaving with a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. Fading footsteps, click of the door. Then nothing. 

Mingming carefully opens his eyes again.

The whir of ventilating fans fills the silence for a while. Mingming lets it stretch. He's busy figuring out where the nearest points of escape are: One door that the man had left through. No windows. Vents? A tight fit, and he'd have to find a way to climb up. Perhaps the crates. 

Finally, Mingming turns his attention to the immediate obstacle at hand - how to unlock this cage? They'd only just cut his nails. He contemplates this, watching the strange boy sigh sadly and seat himself on the nearest crate. Should he try to win this odd person's trust? Maybe he would be able to nick a hairpin or something off him. 

Just as Mingming reaches a tentative hand out of his cage, the boy turns, so suddenly that Mingming startles, hand retreating with an accidental bang against one of the metal bars. His collar tinkles, the clear and innocent sound out of place. 

“Oh!” the boy says, equally startled. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you.” 

_I wasn't_ _frightened_ , Mingming thinks. _Just_ \- but then the boy smiles and it feels like he's stretched out in the sun, tail swishing freely. 

“I'm Jia Yi,” the boy says, turning around fully. He makes himself comfortable, maintaining eye contact and on eye-level. “What's your name?”

He doesn't know, Mingming realizes. So he doesn't even know why he was being scolded. Hesitantly, Mingming lifts his neck, pointing to the tag on the collar. 

“Yao Mingming,” Jia Yi reads, squinting. Mingming nods and tucks the tag back in. “Nice to meet you!” Jia Yi says cheerily, as if he's not the same person who smuggled Mingming out of his pet store display case and into this cage he's currently in. 

Devoid of his voice, Mingming merely nods again, but he smiles a little to show he appreciates the friendliness. Jia Yi doesn't seem to mind his silence. Or rather, Mingming thinks, he could probably talk enough for the both of them. 

“I’m only here because I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” Jia Yi confesses to the air, flicking the lighter on and off again. “Job’s terrible, boss is okay. Used to just be normal things, like, I don't know. Money. Stuff they wouldn’t miss anyway, seeing how much of it they had. You know?”

Mingming does not, in fact, know. But it seems safer to just nod.

“Then bigger things. And even bigger things. And then you,” Jia Yi says, eyes snapping to Mingming’s face. He startles, and involuntarily leans back when Jia Yi turns to him, gaze intent. Wait, why does he have to be scared? Mingming’s eyes narrow. Unintimidated, he pushes forward again. _So?_

It doesn’t seem to have much effect on Jia Yi, who simply continues observing Mingming as if he’s a new toy that he hasn’t seen before. “I don't really get it," Jia Yi says. "Why are you being sold?" 

_So he_ _does_ _realize they took away my voice,_ Mingming thinks. 

"Just because you have cat ears? And a tail?" Jia Yi continues, hand moving toward the black fur on top of Mingming's head. He flicks his ears out of reach on instinct, before he registers what the boy said. 

Never mind, he probably still doesn't know. Mingming stares at the hand still stuck through the bars, hanging in the air. He follows the line of it up to stare at Jia Yi's face, unimpressed. 

"Sorry," Jia Yi says for the third time, pulling back. "I wouldn't be my top pick for conversation either, if I were you. I did just kidnap you from your home. Or is it catnap? Kittynap?" 

It occurs to Mingming that this guy doesn't seem too bright. Or perhaps spaced out would be the word. It also occurs to Mingming that he seems sympathetic to persons like him, somewhat easily guilt-tripped, and maybe, just maybe - 

"Run away," Mingming whispers. 

It's barely audible over the creak of the crates under Jia Yi's weight. Mingming bites his lip in frustration - those two words had taken as much force as he could muster, and yet they were still about as loud as leaves rustling. If those so-called surgeons hadn't - but no. Not worth it to get angry at those who had put him in this situation; better to spend that energy working out a way to get out of it. But this no voice thing is seriously not doing him any favours. 

Mingming opens his mouth to try again. "We -" 

"Okay," Jia Yi says, hands going from clutching the cage bars to reaching in again, still trying to reach Mingming. "Run away, right? Let's do it."

He forgets to close his mouth. 

"I told you, the job sucks," Jia Yi says. He finally finds Mingming's ears, gently patting his head. "I already wanted to quit, anyway." Wonderingly, Mingming steps closer, or as much as this cage would allow, anyway. "So what do you say? Together?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise surprise I'm still alive
> 
> In case it's still unclear: Mingming is a catboy whose voice was surgically removed, which Jia Yi's boss & co. did not know before getting him to catnap Mingming out of the store


End file.
